


The Magician's Assistant

by Hitomi_Zotz



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Crimes & Criminals, Mystery, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:31:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitomi_Zotz/pseuds/Hitomi_Zotz
Summary: A magician and his assistant, a pair of thieves, revenge & justice, 2 halves of the 1 card. All is not as it seems with this case as the team are contracted to save magician's assistant Summer Nuttell in Mexico City when a theft goes wrong and the magician, Jeremy Fenix, leaves her for torture. Finding out the cartel she is involved with has a wide reach drags the team deeper and darker than they've been before.Eventual OC/MC romance, potential Face/Murdock as well and mild warning for violence/torture depiction.





	1. Trapped Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> An edit/re-working of a previous work.

John “Hannibal” Smith was, for a rare first, in a state of disbelief. As he peered through his tinted brown shades at the woman he considered dryly that perhaps he should have sent Murdock to meet this one instead of coming himself. In a show of arrogance and irony he had adopted the disguise of a private investigator. He and the woman, Ms. Nuttell, were currently in a shady office that had been mocked up hastily to resemble the office of weary investigator Elias Horne.

Ms. Nuttell appeared alert and hopeful despite the runaround Hannibal had given her. First had been the standard meeting with Mr. Lee who had directed her to a bus with a moody driver who had taken her to a stop on the outskirts of the town where her only clue was a tattered flyer in the bus stop for investigator E Horne. Hannibal hadn't been certain she would take the hint but Face had let him know she was on her way giving him little time to don his final disguise.

“A magician?” Hannibal repeated in a feigned gritty Brooklyn accent. “Lady don't waste my time with hocus pocus.”

“A thief,” Ms. Nuttell said seriously as she held his gaze with an iron stare that made Hannibal briefly forget her small, unimposing stature and snap to attention. “He played the role of magician, he played many roles,” she added in a tone of disgust, “but he was just a dirty criminal. My daughter didn't know, she couldn't have, she was besotted with him.”

Hannibal nodded along though he had his doubts about this.

“So this magician, what was his name again, Phoenix?”

Ms. Nuttell nodded. “The Ever Rising Phoenix,” she said with a slight sneer, “Jeremy Fenix, and she was his glamorous assistant, my daughter Summer Nuttell but they called her his Firebird. He was a thief for hire and he used his magician show to get him access. He got away with it for five years, longer than he should have but then he bit off more than he could chew in Mexico City and he dragged my daughter into it.”

“Mexico City?” Hannibal parroted as his eyes widened beneath the shades. This was going to be a tall order. Getting himself, a fugitive, and three other fugitives over the border had always proved to be a tricky order, possible most definitely but always a risk.

Ms. Nuttell nodded solemnly. She kept up an admirable appearance of energetic determination but Hannibal could see the bloodshot veins in her eyes that betrayed her growing exhaustion and the pluck at her thin lips that showed her despair breaking through. “I don't know what he was after but he was caught, they both were,” she finished in a sharp whisper. “He got away, whether he took something with him or not I don't know and I don't care Mr. Horne I just know my daughter is the one paying the price for his crimes.”

Hannibal leaned across the stained veneer desk with intrigue. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

Ms. Nuttell turned her attention to the old, black leather handbag on her lap at last and opened the clasp delicately. She tugged out a blank videotape carefully before handing it over to Hannibal with a barely suppressed tremble. “I got this in the post,” she confessed hoarsely, “and a demand for ten thousand American dollars for her release.” She blinked back tears as Hannibal took the tape in one hand. “I don't have that money Mr. Horne and even if I did I doubt it would secure her release, they've tortured her and the only reason she's alive is because they either want that magician's location or they want his secrets. He had skills I believe, ways of infiltrating places and stealing things, sleight of hand and all that crafty trickery.”

Hannibal turned the tape over his hand and glanced at it briefly, there were no markings on it and no label.

Ms. Nuttell tugged out a laced handkerchief from her bag and dabbed at her eyes delicately with it before summoning a cool expression to her face. “I don't have much Mr. Horne, maybe not even enough to hire your acquaintances,” she said calmly, almost defensively, “but I have no one else to turn to. I'll give your acquaintances all the money I do have, I'll sell my house and my car if I have to, whatever it takes to compel them to help my daughter.”

Hannibal placed the tape back on the desk, knowing he should watch it before making his decision but not wanting to. He pulled off his sunglasses at last and slipped them into the breast pocket of his yellowed ivory shirt. “When did you get this tape?” he pried.

“A week ago,” she confessed, “and I've been searching desperately for help since. I don't know when they filmed it or decided to post it, I don't know how long she's been suffering down there.”

“You don't know she's definitely alive then,” he said darkly, letting his accent drop at last.

“I have a mother's surety,” Ms. Nuttell answered with such conviction that Hannibal, against his better nature, was compelled to believe her.

“And I'm to tell my friends that?” he scorned her. “A mother's surety?” he taunted as he slammed his right hand down hard on the desk for good measure.

The woman was unfazed and continued to hold his stare with her own serious stare. “I'll meet them if you want and look them in the eye, all of them, and let them see that I know she's alive,” she said quietly in a serious voice.

Hannibal tugged off his dark curly wig at last and ignored Ms. Nuttell's soft gasp as he reached for the rubber of his prosthetic nose and abandoned the remnants of it to the table. “You've already done it for one of us,” he assured her. “Ms. Nuttell congratulations, you've hired the A-Team.”

\---

San Diego, California, USA

 

There was crazy and then there was batshit no man would ever do it crazy. Templeton 'Faceman' Peck was fairly certain this was the latter. Oh sure it was the stereotype for fugitives to want to cross the border into Mexico but to openly drive up to it like they weren't wanted, that was the crazy part.

The batshit part was that they were going to try and save someone from the cartel. He couldn't argue about it anymore, he'd given up after watching the tape and suffered an odd moment of silent debate.

They had all watched the tape together- he, B.A, Murdock and Hannibal, a second viewing for him. Hannibal had figured he would let the tape do all his arguing for him. Things had been tense after, Murdock had been uncharacteristically quiet and B.A sullen, Face had made a half-hearted argument against going to Mexico but deep down he knew after what they had watched they were going.

Face kept telling himself he had seen worse in the war, hell maybe he had done worse but somehow that didn't lessen the horror of the snuff film. The young woman in it wasn't an enemy soldier, she wasn't armed, she was defenceless, screaming in pain as a man in the shadows forced her to face the camera whilst barking demands for ten thousand American dollars. It was ludicrous, Face couldn't imagine any magic trick that was worth this woman's pain or her silence. For once the screams passed the silence came and then, after someone had introduced burning to the variants of torture, a roll of her eyes that suggested she wasn't quite all there any more.

Even as Face made himself give a wide, cheery smile as they reached border patrol he wondered if there was anything left of the woman to rescue. Was she still alive? If she was alive was she still mentally all there? What if they just rescued a shell of a person?

“Sit Billy,” Murdock snapped from behind.

Face glanced up in the rear view mirror of the motor home he had procured for the journey and spied the pilot wagging a finger down at his invisible dog. He realised that mentally broken or not the woman was still worth saving.

“Show time,” Hannibal said confidently as he readied himself to greet the patrol guard.

Face stopped the vehicle, grabbed the passport and pamphlet resting in the seat pocket beside him and opened the driver's door to greet the tired looking guard. As he did the heat of the afternoon flooded into the vehicle bringing with it the odour of petrol and dust. Face resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose and instead continued to smile winningly. “Good afternoon,” he greeted chirpily, “and I must say what a beautiful afternoon it's turned out to be.”

The officer glanced back at Face stonily through his green tinted shades before thumbing them down slightly to eye the documents clutched in Face's hands. “How many on board?” he grunted.

“Four good sir,” Face answered brightly.

“Purpose of visit?”

“Missionary work.”

The office stared hard at Face through his shades, evidently disapproving of his purpose on some level. “Alright,” he murmured at last, “well I've got to take a quick look before I let you through.”

Face nodded as he stepped back into the vehicle and gestured for the officer to follow him.

The office bordered slowly, pausing to look steadily at Hannibal who occupied the front passenger seat and was fanning himself with a collection of leaflets. Hannibal paused and smiled up at the officer. “Afternoon,” he greeted chirpily, “and such a warm one. Care for a leaflet?” He offered one out.

The officer tipped his sunglasses down with his right hand to study the leaflet. “Brethren of Hope,” he scorned.

“That's us,” Hannibal affirmed.

The officer shook his head before pushing his glasses up and continuing on his way down the caravan.

Face was blocking the way staring at the spot where Murdock was before looking at B.A quizzically.

The imposing soldier of fortune looked as low key as best one of his size and build could. He was clad in a long sleeved, light linen shirt with matching long shorts, both pale taupe, and hanging about his chest on a simple string was a wooden cross, a far cry from his usual golden décor. B.A met Face's worried stare and offered a shrug.

“I thought you said there were four of you,” the officer said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. He had leaned past Face to spy B.A.

“I did,” Face retorted quietly.

There was a flush from the toilet before the lock clicked. Face filled with relief as the door opened and Murdock emerged. His relief was short lived as he took in the large, black and tasselled sombrero on Murdock's head which only seemed to highlight the crazy that lurked in his eyes and drew attention to his wild tufts of dark hair.

“Well you've seen us all and our humble home,” Face said as he turned to face the officer swiftly, hoping to avoid giving him a chance to query Murdock's attire choice. “Perhaps you'd like to hear about our mission?”

The officer, who had been ready to ask some questions, swallowed them down and shook his head. He was soaked in sweat, irritable with the heat and his throat was dry from inhaling exhaust fumes all morning. He did not want to spend the sticky afternoon hearing about Jesus on top of all that. “Save it,” he grumbled, “just have your passports ready for the counter.” He turned and headed back the way he had come.

“Pamphlet?” Hannibal offered innocently as he thrust one out in the officer's path.

“Nah, keep it for someone who wants saving,” the officer scorned as he headed out.

Face shut the door with a small smile. “Nothing gets people away faster than attempting to convert them,” he mocked before heading back to the wheel. He paused and looked in the mirror to Murdock again as the pilot's singing travelled up the motor home.

“Down in Mexicali, there's a crazy little place that I know.”

“Of course there is,” B.A scorned, “shut up already fool, you could've got us lifted!”

“Where the drinks are hotter than the chilli sauce and the boss is a cat named Joe,” Murdock continued singing.

Face tensed slightly at that, he knew the song though he wasn't a fan of it and he hated how relevant the lyrics suddenly seemed. It was a Josias 'Joe' Castillo's domain that they were heading for, intel suggested if he didn't have the magician's assistant he would know who did. Joe had been the one doing the burning after all.

“He wears a red bandanna, plays a blues pianna,” Murdock sang.

“Shut up now,” B.A ordered, “we need you to act sane for five seconds.”

Murdock fell silent as he exchanged a glower with B.A as the motor home came to a halt for a second time. His nostrils flared and his mouth turned at the corners as he debated the risk of provoking B.A.

Passport control was a breeze, their false documents were barely looked over as once again the topic of conversion got them waved through quickly.

Feeling a touch of relief, Face relaxed a little in his seat as they headed for Tijuana.

“So how are we getting to Mexico City?” B.A demanded. “This heap of junk isn't going to get us there quickly.”

“I've got a plan,” Hannibal assured.

“What kind?” B.A demanded with a suspicious stare.

“Fail safe,” Hannibal retorted confidently.

 

 


	2. Abra Kadabra

Mexico City, Mexico

 

The group of fugitives that made up the A-Team looked up at the tower block across the road with a mixture of awe and apprehension. “What are the chances he's on the bottom floor?” Face quipped sardonically with a small smile.

“Are you guys going to tell me how we got here?” B.A snapped. He was feeling a little groggy and wasn't convinced that he had slept through a car journey from Tijuana to Mexico City. He rubbed at his neck in irritation, convinced there was a spot or bite there.

“We told you B.A, it was a taxi,” Hannibal retorted calmly. “Now, the security guard at the entrance makes me think we might not be able to just walk through the front door.”

Hannibal scouted round the area briskly. It was after nine in the evening, local time, and the streets were full of life. Behind them was a restaurant with an alleyway beside it that looked like it held a few discarded boxes amongst its trash.

“Gentlemen I think someone has a catering service due,” Hannibal said with a smirk. “Face you head in the side entrance and see what uniforms you can snag, Murdock you and I are going hunting for catering boxes, they'll be perfect to conceal our guns, and B.A you can keep watch.”

“You don't think they might notice their food doesn't smell?” B.A quipped sceptically as he shook the bag of weapons he was handling. Hannibal had been very quick to ensure B.A's hands were occupied when he had come to in the taxi.

“We won't give them a chance to,” Hannibal retorted happily, “all we need to do is get ourselves through that front door and then it's up to the penthouse.”

“You assume,” B.A scorned.

“B.A has a point,” Face remarked in a calmer tone, “we don't have a lot of information on this man or his home, there could be alarm systems, more guards, security cameras and we don't even know if this woman is up there or not.”

“Face come on now, I thought you liked a challenge,” Hannibal scorned him with a mocking grin. “Especially where a damsel in distress is concerned.”

Face smiled back and said serenely, “I like a sure thing Hannibal  and I like to know there's a guaranteed profit. With a potential cartel member I'm not sure either of those things is going to happen for me.”

“Ah señor but this is an adventure,” Murdock piped up happily with a false Mexican accent, “up to the tower to get the maiden.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered across the road in a mock English accent. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!” 

“Shut up you fool!” B.A snarled as he grabbed Murdock by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back to the shadows of the alleyway. “You tryin' to draw attention to us? Damn crazy fool gonna get us caught before we've even started! And why did you swap accents anyway?”

Murdock looked at B.A like he was the mad one. “Medieval knights weren't Mexican,” he retorted like it was obvious.

“Alright fellas let's get moving already,” Hannibal commanded before B.A could yell another response.

B.A released Murdock with reluctance before turning to face the front of the alleyway. He scowled and muttered under his breath how he wouldn't have slept for that long in any car especially in such a warm climate.

Face led the way down the alleyway to the open side door of the restaurant. White light poured out from within accompanied by the sounds of food cooking, kitchen hands cursing, and numerous cooks bustling to and fro. It was thriving with activity, evidently a popular spot.

“Alright,” Face murmured quietly as he glanced back at Hannibal and Murdock, “I'm going to get to the lockers where the uniforms should be, you guys get what you need.”

Face hurried in without waiting for a retort. He didn't bother trying to be subtle, instead he marched with authority, turning so it seemed like he had come through the double doors that led out to the main restaurant. “Outrageous! Outrageous!” he cried out loudly.

As all eyes turned to Face in confusion, Hannibal took the chance to dart in, ducking low to sneak behind the cooks who were all facing Face. Murdock followed behind, his eyes darting left and right as he marvelled over ingredients before recoiling in horror from a raw fish. “Poor little guy,” he sympathised as he stared at its glassy eye, “what an unfair fate.”

“Murdock you eat meat all the time,” Hannibal reminded him quietly as he glanced back at the pilot.

“I know but that coulda been a wishing fish colonel or it could've gone in a bowl.”

“Well I'm sure it didn't suffer,” Hannibal assured as he led the way through a door to the left. They found themselves in a small room stocked with empty boxes ready to be filled with delivery food. Hannibal grabbed a few of the larger ones along with some heavy duty bags. “Hmm we need something fancier,” he murmured before gesturing for Murdock to lift a few.

“I think I know what to get,” Murdock said happily. “Let's get these boxes outside first.”

The pair hurried back on their way into the main kitchen where Face was claiming in a combination of Spanish and English to be a health inspector.

“I want to see your uniforms now!” Face snapped loudly before poking the stunned looking chef hard in the chest with one finger. “Look at this, it's not even white anymore!” He yelled so convincingly no one had bothered to ask for proof of his identity yet.

Hannibal grinned and shook his head before heading back to the debris ridden alleyway. “Alright Murdock, B.A and I will start putting the guns into the boxes, you get what you think we need to make this presentable.”

“Right boss.” Murdock nodded and headed back into the kitchen area.

The pilot's dark eyes glimpsed his desired prize just as it was being wheeled out into the dining area. With a cry of dismay he stood upright and ran after it, forgoing any attempt to stay low key.

Face missed Murdock darting into the dining room as he was now following after the chef to the staff locker area.

 

Murdock skidded to a halt in the dining area as a large tank on the left distracted him from his goal. He gaped in horror at the lobsters contained within and cried out dramatically, “don't worry little sea creatures I'll make sure you're liberated from the pot and sent swimming home! Er...” He paused and looked to the cart he had been pursuing. “But not right now, I'm on another mission, I won't forget you though fellas!” He raced towards the dining cart, both hands coming down on the silver dome on it before the waiter could lift it. “No lo siento,” he babbled to the waiter with a shake of his head. He looked to the startled diners and waved his hand in a firm gesture. “Huevos podridos!”

He hoisted the silver dome and the tray underneath it from the cart, ignoring the diners remarking that they hadn't ordered any eggs. “Sorry,” he murmured as he hurried back to the kitchen preparation area, “first Spanish food name I could think of.” He burst through the double doors dramatically, yelling to the alarmed cooks, “liberate the lobsters!”

Murdock hurried out the open doorway and was about to be pursued until a returning Face got in between the fleeing Murdock and his would be pursuers. Face, arms laden with uniforms, snapped loudly, “all of these need disposed!” He stepped backwards to the alleyway and added loudly, “and this open door is a health hazard!” He grabbed the door with one hand and slammed it shut before turning and letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Colonel we have to go back after we get the witch,” Murdock remarked rapidly, “see they've got prisoners in there!” He gestured back to the restaurant frantically with one hand.

“Murdock she's not a witch,” Hannibal said calmly.

“What do you mean prisoners?” B.A snarled over Hannibal as he looked at Murdock with suspicion. “Like slaves?”

“Oh yes,” Murdock retorted sincerely, “and they've got 'em locked up in a tank just waiting for death!”

“In a tank?!” B.A exclaimed in a mixture of disgust and puzzlement. “Fool what do you mean? Are there people being held hostage in there?”

“Lower your voice B.A,” Hannibal commanded, “I'm sure our captain doesn't mean people.”

“No,” Face explained calmly, “I'd say that's why he was shouting to liberate the lobsters.” He looked at his eccentric friend kindly. “Isn't that it Murdock? You want to aid the helpless crustaceans in there?”

Murdock nodded eagerly. “Yes Faceman, it ain't right, they've got no say in the matter and it's like a beauty contestant, not good for their self-esteem, death if they're picked but feeling self-conscious if they ain't.”

“You are crazy,” B.A grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “talking about freeing seafood!”

“Anyway gentlemen,” Face interrupted, “let's hurry up and get changed before some of the restaurant workers come out and investigate.”

In a matter of minutes the four were clad in uniforms matching the restaurant, except for B.A who were too muscular to fit his properly and had to settle for donning an apron and a baseball cap, both with the company logo. He complained about the attire the entire stretch of road they had to cross to reach their targeted building.

The apartment block was sleek, black and modern and had two guards standing to attention at the large glass doors that led into it. Both were openly armed and regarded the group with immediate suspicion.

“Important delivery for Mr. Castillo upstairs,” Hannibal announced brazenly as he stepped forward.

“He didn't mention he was expecting food,” one guard retorted with a hostile look.

“You guys don't look local,” the other murmured as he pushed back the bottom of his jacket to flash his gun at them.

“This,” Murdock remarked seriously as he lifted the silver domed tray slightly, “is the special, an expensive delicacy and since Mr. Castillo already paid for the food in advance I don't think he'll be happy missing out. We got this especially imported for him,” he spoke briskly, “took two days to prepare, fresh outta the oven tonight and it's only good while it's still warm, you leave it for more than a few minutes and it's spoilt.”

“That's right,” Hannibal commented with a solemn nod, “cost a lot of pesos but we can take it back if you want to explain the loss to your boss.”

The pair of guards exchanged a look. “I'll give him a ring,” the first suggested.

The second frowned. “Didn't he say he was dealing with something? I don't think disturbing him is wise.”

“Well let us disturb him then,” Hannibal suggested with a smile, “we could really use a good tip.”

The first shook his head. “I'd rather confirm,” he decided.

“Why don't you take a look at the special you're gonna spoil first?” Murdock suggested. He grinned and said, “come on, step up and see it.” He lifted the lid just a small crack prompting both guards to step forward.

B.A set down his bags and stepped behind the pair. Before they sensed him he banged their heads together. “Confirm that sucka,” he scoffed as they fell unconscious to the ground.

“Subtle,” Face taunted with a wary grin and a shake of his head. He glanced towards the glass doors, half expecting an army of guards to come racing down.

Hannibal bent down and confiscated the guards' guns quickly before taking their card passes and keys. “Let's go,” he ordered as he lifted his bags again.

The group hurried into the lobby area and over to the lifts. Face paused to smile winningly at the desk clerk and say, “we've got a food delivery.”

Hannibal pressed the button for the lift and it arrived within seconds. They all stepped inside and looked to the buttons. B.A reached up to disable the camera, pushing it upwards forcefully whilst Murdock reached out a hand to the buttons.

“Not right now Murdock,” Face said as he grasped the captain's hand.

“Aww but Faceman I like to see 'em all lit up,” Murdock complained.

The button for the Penthouse needed activated with a key. Hannibal had to try three of the ones he had stolen before he got it working. The lift started moving, playing an upbeat Latino tune as it did.

Murdock started to dance enthusiastically to it until B.A planted two hands down firmly on his shoulders. “Cut that out,” he ordered sternly.

“I like this song B.A let me move,” Murdock retorted moodily.

“Fool you ain't never heard it until now,” B.A grumbled back.

“I ain't never heard it out loud before,” Murdock corrected as he craned his neck back and up so he could smirk at B.A upside down, “but I've heard it plenty in my head.”

“We need to get ready,” Hannibal ordered.

They lifted out the boxes they needed, except for Murdock who remained holding the silver dome. When the lift binged they were granted entry to an lavish living room setting.

Hannibal scanned it quickly. There wasn't a person in sight. All the lights were on, half-drunk glasses and remnants of cocaine littered the marble coffee table and music played softly from a radio suggesting there had been people here not that long ago. Hannibal became aware of the sounds of whooping and jeering that indicated everyone was outside through the open balcony doors at the back of the room.

“Weapons out, we can seize the element of surprise,” Hannibal ordered. He counted the abandoned glasses hastily, there were three. Of course it meant little, there were probably plenty of men out there who had taken their drinks with them to whatever was going on outside. “Move slow and quiet,” he said sternly as he took out a Browning Hi-Power and holstered it against his belt before reaching for an Uzi.

 

Outside was a large patio with a swimming pool complete with three deck chairs, and an outdoor table with a closed parasol. The patio was lit with tall, wooden torches embedded in stone, two positioned theatrically on either side of the woman who held the men's attention. She had her hands suspended in manacles attached to two wooden posts and was standing on a wooden crate with a noose about her neck, attached to what appeared to be a hastily set up wooden beam supported by the two wooden posts the chains of the manacles were attached to.

One man stood opposite the woman, with six men forming a semi-circle of observation behind him. Behind her was another man holding a long, dark whip.

The man facing her flickered between grins and scowls as he waved a Colt in the woman's direction carelessly. “I'm tired of waiting for an answer, all I'm giving you is a choice in death, you can die from blood loss or if you lose your footing maybe it's a hanging and if you don't die from hanging I'll blow you brains out,” he vowed in English in a voice thick with a Mexican accent.

Her head was bowed and she remained defiantly silent.

The man ran a hand through his oiled back black hair. “I'd rather you tell me what I need to hear and live or, at least die quickly.”

The whip struck without warning and the woman gave a gasp of pain. Her chains jingled as she stumbled slightly on the box.

“Cabrona,” the man hissed out. “I hope you choke, it would be disappointing if you broke your neck.”

There was a loud clang as one of the manacles suddenly snapped free and smacked off the wooden post.

“Oops,” the woman murmured quietly in a voice tired and heavy with frustration.

The man's bitter brown eyes filled with darkness as rage consumed them. “God damn magic tricks! Hang cabrona!” He charged forward quickly.

She looked up at him at last showing off a black eye and a bruised cheek. “No last words?” she quipped quietly. Her free hand moved frantically against the remaining manacle but she was panicking as the man neared her and it wasn't coming free. “Abra Kadabra-”

The manacle snapped free just as the box was kicked out from under her and suddenly she was choking and gasping for air as her body jerked on the rope like a puppet on a string. She had made the manoeuvre too late and unwittingly helped the man to hang her. Both her hands went to the rope automatically but then the right dropped away to hang at her waist.

The man stepped back from her twitching body with a scowl as he readied his gun just in case.

He was forced to turn suddenly as B.A unleashed a spray of bullets, unable to retain his rage as the woman was hung.

Knowing death was close, the woman made a last frantic attempt at life. She swung purposely from left to right, gaining momentum with each swing.

“Alakazam,” she hissed out hoarsely as she reached the necessary height to throw at a torch the powder she had tugged out from a small, hidden pocket at her lower back.

There was a loud boom drawing everyone's attention back to the hangman display as the wooden posts caught fire and black smoke filled the air.

“You're going to die cabrona!” the man who had conducted the affair shouted with a crazed anger as he charged forward again.

The gunfire seemed to be everywhere but the A-Team held the advantage despite being outnumbered by three. B.A had already disabled two men with some choice punches and gunshots and the rest were still reeling from the surprise of the attack combined with the unexpected minor explosion.

The woman felt a rush of horror as the sparks danced at her eyes and she felt the heat come with the noise of the explosion. Her body flinched, aches old and knew reminding of her of the damage heat could do. She trembled on the ground, eyes closed as she tried to block it out. The fear was difficult to squash, even as the primal instinct to survive tried to kick in it crippled her.

At the rattle of gunfire her eyes snapped open and she rose to her feet and started to run. She didn't consider where she was going except to get away from the fire and the sparks.

The noose remained about her neck, the rope snapped from the beam and now flying loose behind her. It proved to be a hazard when the enraged Mexican loomed out of the smoke behind her and snatched the rope with one firm hand.

The woman let out a cry of surprise as she was yanked back viciously and fell to the ground.

“You're a brujería!” he snarled at her. “Let's see you magic away this!” He pointed his nozzle down at her head.

There was a loud clang as a metal dome collided with the man's face sending him reeling back in surprise. Before he could recover a metal tray followed, dazing him and causing his vision to flash red with the impact.

“That's some real fast food service,” Murdock bragged happily.

“Murdock let's not forget who we came to help,” Face piped up as he reached for the woman and tugged her back to her feet. “That was some impressive handiwork,” he marvelled at her.

“Idle hands are the devil's playthings,” she mused quietly as she glanced up at him with a dull curiosity, “makes you wonder why people frown on lock-picking.”

“Indeed.” Face released her to fire a shot with his Colt .45 before the Mexican could shoot at them.

The man let out a hiss as the bullet narrowly missed his right shoulder.

Face recognised him as Josias 'Joe' Castillo and he filled with hate as he aimed his gun again.

The woman looked at Joe with an icy expression of loathing. She patted down her arms and seemingly producing a card from nowhere in her right hand. “For you,” she said, voice still quiet, as she held it up to him.

Joe's dark eyebrows narrowed as he made out the Grim Reaper figure on the card. “You're mistaken brujería,” he sneered, “that one is for you.” He raised his gun to aim but the woman moved quicker.

Another handful of the powder was flung, this time at the torch to Joe's right.

The woman gave a small fleeting grin, gone as quick as it appeared as Joe screamed as he was burned with the second explosion. “It burns doesn't it?” she snarled. “You shouldn't play with fire.”

“Aww I didn't bring no marshmallows,” Murdock pouted.

“Um I don't mean to interrupt this,” Face chirped, having righted himself to his feet after being rocked to the ground by the explosion, “but we need to go.”

Hannibal and B.A were already at the balcony doors, B.A was waving them over whilst Hannibal held their assailants back with a spray of gunfire.

“They've called for backup, it's time to go!” Hannibal called cheerfully.

The woman looked at him in disbelief. “But he's not dead,” she snapped.

“And neither are you,” Face reminded her, “be grateful.” He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along. “Murdock are you coming?”

“Sure Faceman, pity we can't stay for dessert,” Murdock retorted.

The group hurried back to the lift but Hannibal purposely hit the button for the tenth floor, so they could avoid an ambush outside the lift on the ground floor.

“You need to lose the jewellery,” B.A scorned the woman as he eyed the noose about her neck.

“Really?” she replied sardonically. “I thought it was rather fetching.”

“Well at least there's a sense of humour there,” Face murmured.

The lift pinged and the doors opened.

Hannibal ushered them out to the floor and scouted for the fire escape.

“Who are you?” the woman queried. She appeared fatigued, her body slouched, her eyes were dull and her skin, that which wasn't bleeding or bruised, was wan with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Introductions when we're at a safer spot,” Hannibal retorted as he found the fire exit to the balcony. The door was alarmed but it didn't take much for B.A to disable the sensor and force the door open. They headed out to the metal balcony with a metal staircase leading down several flights to a set of dubious ladders. It took three firm kicks from B.A to free the ladders and send them rattling towards the ground. They got stuck two thirds of the way down but Hannibal reasoned that it would be a safe enough drop.

B.A descended first and Murdock followed.

“You next,” Hannibal ordered the woman.

The woman glanced down to the white empire line dress she adorned, it was ripped and smeared with blood at the back thanks to being dramatically torn open to welcome the whip.

“Virgin sacrifice?” Hannibal quipped tauntingly.

“Something like that,” she murmured dryly. “A real cliché.”

“Well Murdock won't peek, now get climbing,” he ordered.

She moved to the ladder, the rungs were cold to the touch and she welcomed it as she started descending. The evening air was warm but bearable, even in her risky attire she would have gladly welcomed a breeze for some relief from the heat.

She glanced down and swallowed hard, tightening her grasp and halting her descent as the world suddenly blurred and spun.

Murdock sensed her halting and glanced up. “Don't look down,” he suggested with a smile.

“Don't look up,” she scolded him as she leaned into the wall. She shook her head with a weak smile. “Shit what am I saying?” she mused to herself softly. “Hell look all you want, I don't care it's just I don't have very nice underwear on.” She kept talking, talking was a distraction, it took her away from the height and the looming concrete below. Her hands faltered she could reach it in seconds.

She swallowed hard and continued babbling on. Sometimes it didn't matter what she said, sometimes it worked and she could delay the bad thing simply by speaking. They didn't always know the truth from the lie.

“Funny, they only ever think of the outerwear when it comes to sacrifices and murder,” she babbled, “no one ever considers what a sacrificial woman should be wearing underneath.”

“Hmm, I'd like to wear a toga,” Murdock decided, “very official, all the comforts of a bathrobe but not so casual.”

“What exactly would you want to be wearing underneath?” Face pried as he started to climb down.

“Face,” Hannibal chided as he looked over and wagged a scorning finger down at the lieutenant, “save it for later.”

Face grinned up at his superior. “She brought it up.”

The ladder moved without warning, descending rapidly with a loud rattle and several shakes. Face lost his footing and the woman let out a cry of protest as the sole of his right foot stamped down on her head. She swung outwards with the blow, clinging onto to the rails precariously with one hand.

The whites of her eyes showed as she gazed at the world below and a cry of alarm escaped her.

Murdock let out a delighted 'whee' before the ladder came to a halt as it hit the ground at last. “Aww that ride was too short,” Murdock lamented. “B.A could you hold it steady?” he called out crossly.

The woman tried to swing inwards the same time Face tried to correct his footing. The result was Face's left foot coming down on the woman's left hand causing her to yelp in pain and release the rung instinctively. She fell down with a scream of terror, hitting Murdock as she did and bringing him down with her to land on top of B.A. Luckily, the world below had not been as far away as she had thought.

B.A immediately unleashed a flurry of muffled curses and yells as he tried and failed to push himself up from underneath the pair of tangled humans.

Murdock found himself burrowed beneath folds of the white dress and pushed them off before reaching around worriedly for his missing red cap.

The woman struggled off B.A, shaking in disbelief as she struggled to accept that she had survived the drop and was largely uninjured. She looked to B.A nervously before glancing at the ground and then at the ladder. Her heart was pounding and she was soaked in sweat, too warm again but alive. She looked back to B.A “It must have been you,” she murmured. “Thanks for the landing.”

B.A scowled back at her, ill-liking her odd gaze and unable to work out if her statement was mocking or not. He shoved Murdock off him and hastened to his feet. “Face, Hannibal you suckas better hurry or you're gonna find two dead bodies down here!”

Hannibal let out a chuckle before he started his descent at last.

The woman lifted up the dented red cap resting to her right and pushed it back into shape before presenting it to Murdock. “Yours?” she quipped quietly.

He took it from her with a grateful nod and placed it back on his head. “Got to keep my thoughts from escaping,” he explained hastily.

She nodded empathetically before tugging off the noose at last and tossing it to one side.

“Your underwear looked pretty good for a sacrifice by the way,” Murdock assured her with a grin.

It was odd but the crude jest seemed to be what she needed and she felt a smile tugging at her lips and allowed it to bloom as some of the fear slipped away with it. “Well good, the night is young, I could still get sacrificed,” she replied calmly before standing up.

Face and Hannibal joined them with better grace and together they hurried to the back of the building, round a corner and across a road to hail a taxi.

 


	3. A Good Night's Sleep

Templeton 'Faceman' Peck glanced at his watch and winced. It was late, just after half past midnight. In different company he might be enjoying a complimentary drink from the hotel or he might be already sampling the plush cotton sheets. Normally when he brought a young woman to a hotel what followed was an expected and predictable evening of passion coupled with fun. Tonight however it was just a chaotic delay from sleep and he needed sleep after recent events.

They were in a reasonably priced hotel on the outskirts of Mexico City, Hannibal had suggested a cheaper motel but Face had argued that the higher the price of the hotel the better the security for them. He had also grumbled about getting a good night's sleep without roaches when B.A had scorned him as a snob.

“Kid what are you doing?” Hannibal queried dryly as he took the cigar from his mouth and looked at the young woman with bemusement.

That was the other abnormality, Face wasn't in the hotel room alone with the woman, nope, Hannibal, Murdock and B.A were all here too. Although they had booked two rooms side by side they had yet to discuss sleeping arrangements.

As Hannibal watched the woman he figured she was about to insist on deciding her own sleeping arrangement.

The woman had promptly hoisted up the duvet and a pillow from one of the beds and was now heading in the direction of the bathroom. “Isn't it obvious?” she scorned, her face almost concealed by her armful of pillow. “Obvious to sleep in a bed, that's the first place they're going to look.”

“And who are they?” Face queried wearily. “And who are you?”

“Who are you?” she repeated without looking over at him as she headed for the bathroom. “Weren't you the ones who came for me? Why was that?” she queried. She entered the bathroom and deposited the duvet into the ovular white bath tub.

“You can't sleep in there!” B.A called after her crossly. “What if I need the toilet during the night?”

“Do it on the balcony,” she retorted as she fixed the duvet, “or use the bathroom next door, you got two rooms didn't you? I'm still not sure why I didn't get a room on my own, four of you and only two beds a piece.”

“Are you going to pay for it?” Face demanded loudly from the main bedroom area.

“Hmm, I suppose that's a good point but I'm still sleeping in here,” she called back as she fixed the pillow against the back of the tub.

“Makes sense,” Murdock commented approvingly. He was standing on one of the beds with his ear and two palms pressed up against the wall.

“Well now we know it's a crazy idea,” B.A grumbled. He turned a glower on his leader. “Hannibal I ain't sharing with two crazies!”

“Of course not B.A,” Hannibal retorted with a smile as he lit his cigar, “you're bunking with me next door.”

“I can hear them, whispering in the walls,” Murdock remarked seriously as he leaned into the wall.

“Since that's B.A and Hannibal's room I hope not,” Face retorted calmly. He was too tired to bother protesting being left with the odd young woman and Murdock. At least with Murdock he knew what to expect, for the most part.

The woman exited from the bathroom and rejoined them in the main sleeping area. She still looked uneasy and the colour of her bruises were vibrant under the bright beam of the wall and ceiling lights. Her back was smeared with bloodstains but the whip hadn't cut deep and the wounds were shallow and had ceased bleeding.

“Kid, are you Summer Nuttell?” Hannibal quipped as he stepped up to the young woman as she exited the bathroom.

She gave a calm nod. “I am.” She moved her right arm out and up and from thin air she plucked out a tarot card and grinned before turning it round to show Hannibal. “The Emperor huh, the authority figure, guess that's you.”

“Cute trick,” he retorted sardonically with a smile.

Summer stiffened slightly at this. “Some people don't like magic tricks,” she retorted quietly. She clapped her hands together, banishing the card before conjuring a yellow rubber duck in its place. She gave it a squeeze causing it to emit a squeak.

Murdock applauded dramatically as he finally pulled away from the wall. “Magnificent!”

The woman, who was staring down at the duck, gave a flicker of a smile at this.

“Shut up fool she just lifted it from the bathroom!” B.A remarked as he glowered at Murdock.

“Can you make him disappear?” Murdock quipped sulkily as he placed his hands on his hips and frowned back at the larger man.

“So, what are you names?” Summer queried as she glanced up at Hannibal quizzically before her gaze darted down to the rubber duck in her hand and she gently squeaked it again.

“I'm Hannibal, the angry man over there is B.A, that's Face,” he said as he gestured to the younger man, seeing that she was still staring at the duck he added, “and the man who likes your magic is Murdock.”

The woman frowned as she kept looking at the duck. Hannibal didn't know what to make of it, it was as if she didn't think she had been rescued and only when she spoke did he realise he was right.

“Why did you come for me?” she queried in a voice that was almost hollow. She was trying to sound brave but she still couldn't make eye contact.

“We're the A-Team,” Hannibal explained between a puff of smoke, “perhaps you've heard of us?” He hoped she had, maybe then her fear would lessen.

Summer's eyes filled with surprise as she nodded. “Soldiers of fortune, guess the tarot cards really do suit you then but aren't you straying south of the border? What interest do you have in me?”

“Your mother came to us,” Hannibal explained, “and said you were in danger, she enlisted us to rescue you.”

Summer looked up at last, staring at Hannibal as if trying to spot some telltale sign in his expression but he couldn't fathom what that might be. “My mother,” she murmured softly, “but how did she know where I was? How did you?”

Hannibal kept a calm expression whilst Face grimaced slightly. “There was a ransom request,” Hannibal informed her.

“Oh? How much am I worth?” Summer queried. She felt the urge to babble again and tried to swallow it down with her nerves. She was trying to make light of it because it was that or think of what had come before, of the pain and the chains and the dark and wonder what all her mother knew about it.

“Ten grand apparently,” B.A grumbled with a frown of displeasure, “but I ain't seeing it, I wouldn't even pay five dollars.”

“Always a charmer B.A,” Face teased.

“Ten,” Summer mused, “hmm I suppose it's alright, I mean I'm on the late side of my twenties I guess, knocks the value a little.” She was babbling again, she didn't want to think about it, to consider how the ransom demand had been sent. She looked down at the duck again, trying to focus on the yellow rubber and forget the blinking red light in her memory that let her know the camera was recording her suffering. “In those younger days it would have been double I'm sure.”

Although she was trying to be humorous, Face and Hannibal weren't buying it, her tone didn't match with her words and she was tense and staring down. They knew signs, hell B.A and Murdock knew them too they just weren't looking for them. The bowed head was an attempt to evade being noticed, the soldier who was desperate not to get beaten again. The tensing suggested the body was preparing for the pain anyway, the soldier who knew the torture was inevitable because it had been for so long now that it was only logical it continued. The babbled rush of words, the soldier who attempted to talk their way out of torture or tried to distract themselves from what was coming because anything was better than silence to ponder the pain. Then there was the clinging to the rubber duck, it was a needed distraction and maybe a comfort device too, like the crumpled photograph of a loved one, a metal cigar case to rub a thumb and finger against or the pocket knife or cracked watch.

“Are you actually complaining about this?” B.A queried with a look of disbelief at the woman. “Do you know someone who could pay that kind of money?”

Summer frowned and the duck let out another squeak. “I might,” she muttered.

Face stepped up to her with a curious, bright eyed stare. “And who might this be?” he queried with a small smile. “Maybe they're the one we should discuss our fee with.”  
“You can get in line for that,” Summer retorted calmly, “that is if you can find him to form a queue.”

“This wouldn't be Jeremy Fenix would it?” Hannibal hazarded a guess.

“Bingo!” Summer retorted with a snap of the finger and thumb on her right hand. She looked at her fingertips with dismay and frowned. “There should have been sparks, damn must be out. Kind of adds to the whole mentioning of the phoenix. Never known anyone to have so many lives. Just gotta make sure to douse him with water so he can't rise up from the flames or you know, behead him.” Summer shrugged. “That's my plan anyway.”

Face and Hannibal exchanged a wary glance. “Summer that sounds...well disturbing,” Face said cheerfully, “but the plan is to get you back to your mother safely.”

“No,” Summer retorted flatly. She looked at them again with a stare serious and disturbed. “You took me from a mob boss, the plan is to survive. Joe was working on behalf of friends in the Mafia.”

“Um what?” Face turned a look of displeasure to Hannibal. “Hannibal we discussed Mexican gangsters, not Italian ones.”

“Do I need to change my clothes for this?” Murdock queried seriously as he gestured one hand down at his attire. “I mean if we're dealing with different people now.”

“I thought you tried and failed to rob the wrong people in Mexico?” B.A quipped as he scowled at the woman. “Since when do the Mafia use Mexicans?”

“Well it's a good front for them, good place to hide the money too, south of the border,” Summer pointed out. “Also, there was no failure, Jeremy did rob them. It's a little complicated well no, scratch that, it's very complicated.”

Summer felt silent and the duck squeaked again.

“I'm going to tear that squeaker out,” B.A growled.

“Aww let him talk B.A,” Murdock snapped.

“Him?” B.A glanced over his shoulder at the pilot in outrage. He shook one hand out in Summer's direction. “She is a she fool!”

Murdock frowned back and rolled his eyes. “I know that B.A,” he scorned, “I was referring to the duck.”

“Summer,” Face spoke up hastily before B.A started yelling, “why don't you try and...” He paused until she glanced up and gave her a winning smile. “Uncomplicate it?”

“It started here in Mexico City for us, we were performing in the city and...” She frowned again. “Well obtaining a few things for ourselves as well. Jeremy found something valuable with the Mexican mob, something the Mafia were hiding with them and now it's wherever Jeremy is at.” She raised both her arms displaying the various burn marks and bruises on them. “They found out and Jeremy let me take the fall. Joe assumed after a while that I didn't know where Jeremy would be so he got fed up and tried to hang me but now that you guys have got me out he's going to assume that you rescued me for it and that actually I do know. Joe's not the worry though, it's the ones above him, the ones paying him, they will think the same as Joe and they'll come after us.”

“Summer, what exactly did Jeremy take from the nice gangsters or would that be Mafia?” Face queried.

Summer flashed him a half-mad smile. “I don't know, if I did I'd be enjoying it, wouldn't I?” she added bitterly. “Anyway, sleep tight, assuming we'll be allowed too. You never really know what's true with the Mafia and what's fiction, do you? You know I like the food,” she murmured quickly, “pasta and spaghetti bolognese, I'd like some of that now, does this place do room service?”

“Isn't that just a little racist?” Face queried. He knew it was Summer's painfully transparent way of changing the subject and it irritated him a little for her to be so vague given all they had risked to help her.

“See I like spaghetti but the way those meatballs watch you, that ain't right man,” Murdock murmured.

“Hmm you're right,” Summer said solemnly, “shouldn't be mentioning Italian food and forgetting pizza. With pineapple,” she added.

Murdock gave a gasp of horror as he pulled back against the wall and looked to her with wide eyes. “You monster,” he said dramatically. He looked to their leader pleadingly. “Hannibal don't make me bunk with a crazy.”

“You're still the crazy one Murdock,” B.A muttered. He gave Face a taunting glance. “Looks like you're getting all the fun tonight.”

“Hmm I'm not sure we have the same definition of fun,” Face lamented.

“Sharing an apartment with a young woman usually is your definition of fun,” B.A retorted tauntingly. He glanced over at Hannibal. “Come on Hannibal, I'm tired, let's hit the sack already.” B.A headed towards the main door, his various golden chains jingling with each step.

“Thoughts of the Mafia won't keep you up then?” Face queried dryly.

B.A shrugged as he glanced back at Face, his scowl deepening at Face's mocking smile. “Gangster is gangster, I don't care if they're Mexican, Italian or American, crooks are all the same in the end.”

“So it's alright that we potentially have two of them after us,” Face retorted lightly.

“I'm tired man, we'll deal with it in the morning,” B.A dismissed Face's woes.

“Sure, if we're not already in concrete slippers,” Face grumbled.

“Oh that note, good night,” Hannibal said. “Try and get some sleep.”

“Not with her colonel,” Murdock protested with an anxious shake of his head. He pulled a face of revulsion. “Pineapple,” he snarled out with a shudder, “disgusting.”

“Tastes delicious,” Summer insisted. “Anyway, night night, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite. Another reason to sleep in a bath,” she added smugly, “no bed bugs.” She turned and headed off to the bathroom, rubber duck still firmly clutched in both hands.

“Hmm she's right,” Murdock remarked as he stepped away from the wall. He gazed down to the bed he was standing on suspiciously. “Maybe we shouldn't sleep in the beds.”

“Murdock this is a classy place, it will be fine,” Face assured.

“If it's not you should consider the balcony,” B.A muttered.

“Alright, everyone up at a dawn,” Hannibal advised. “I don't want to be lingering in Mexico any longer than we have to.”

\---

Dawn arrived warm and dry. It was a beautiful sight as the sky turned rosy pink and gold rose up at the horizon to paint the land in light. It was also a sight Face got to witness first hand from his perch on the balcony where he sat on an uncomfortable plastic white chair in the shade. He had been there since three in the morning when he had finally given up on sleep. It wasn't enough listening to Murdock whine and kick at his bedsheets like an excited dog but, as Face had learned the hard way, Summer Nuttell was a snorer.

Face glanced at his watch tiredly as the sun rose above the horizon, knowing that Hannibal would be knocking on the apartment door soon. He was wondering dryly if Prince Charming had considered how well the princess slept before he had decided to marry her. Sleeping Beauty's prince had it easy, Snow White's too, they both knew if the princess snored or not before marriage but Cinderella's, he wasn't so lucky.

Face stood up, stretched out and walked through the ajar glass sliding door into the apartment. He glanced over to the bed Murdock occupied. The pilot had kicked off his blanket entirely and was whimpering and murmuring nonsense under his breath.

Face's mouth creased into a frown. Sometimes Murdock had vivid dreams but sometimes he had disturbing nightmares, subconscious flashbacks to their time in 'Nam and the moments that had led to his mind cracking. Many suspicious doctors and soldiers wondered if H.M Murdock faked his insanity to avoid incarceration but Face, Hannibal and B.A knew better, they had been in Vietnam too.

Face stepped up to his friend quietly, leaned down and placed a gentle hand on his right shoulder. “Time to get up Murdock,” he said softly as he felt the man tense beneath his grasp. “Princess Sleeping Loudly needs taken back over the border.”

Murdock smiled as he opened his eyes and gave a yawn. “Maybe she's Princess Hasn't Slept in a While,” he suggested.

The pilot sat up promoting Face's hand to drop away.

Face looked thoughtful at Murdock's retort. He glanced sharply in the direction of the closed bathroom door as he heard a snore from within. “Maybe,” he said quietly. He didn't think a lack of sleep could result in severe snoring but maybe Murdock had a point.

“I need to take Billy out to do his business,” Murdock murmured as he swung his legs round and stretched. He rubbed a hand through his ruffled brown hair, snatched up the baseball cap resting on the bedside cabinet, put it on and headed out to the balcony. “C'mon Billy,” he called as he smacked the side of his right leg lightly with his hand.

“Guess I'd better wake Summer,” Face grumbled as he headed for the bathroom door. He gave it a polite, light knock but it had no effect.

The thud of B.A's fist on the main apartment door was much more effective. “You fools up yet?” the sergeant snarled.

There was a snort from within the bathroom before Summer groaned wearily, “five more minutes, gotta find the pumpkin man.”

“Am I the only one who didn't dream crazy?” Face murmured to himself as he moved to the apartment door. He tugged it open and greeted Hannibal and B.A with a smile. He was a little envious to see that the pair looked not only better rested than him but like they had had the time to wash and comb.

“You look like crap,” B.A greeted him bluntly.

“Good morning to you too,” Face retorted with forced joy.

“Didn't sleep well?” Hannibal quipped innocently with a grin as he and B.A stepped into the room.

“Oh like a log,” Face responded as he turned back to the bathroom door. “A log hurtling towards a waterfall,” he added sardonically.

Face knocked on the bathroom door again. “Summer it's time to go,” he called.

There was another groan from within followed by a squeal and a bang.

Face opened the bathroom door instinctively, wary of an intruder though he couldn't fathom how someone would have slipped in there unnoticed. He stood staring in surprise at the young woman lying ungracefully on the floor in a heap of blanket.

“Got tangled,” she grunted to the floor, “forgot I was in a bathtub.”

“You mean you don't normally sleep in them?” Face queried as he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Summer tugged free from the blanket and pushed herself up into a sitting position. She stood up and smoothed down her sullied dress. “Do we have time to stop for clothes while we're fleeing?” she queried as she glanced at her bruised face and frizzy hair in the mirror. “A bloodstained dress isn't too subtle.”

“Sure and then we'll get some coffee and buns,” B.A snarled sarcastically.

“Aww B.A that sounds great!” Murdock enthused as he joined them.

B.A looked to Hannibal again. “Hannibal I ain't waiting much longer for them,” he snapped. He stormed out of the room to the hall.

Face smiled back at Summer. “Summer, do you think you could give me a minute in here, I could do with some privacy.”

Summer nodded. “Sure.” She stepped past him and out of the bathroom, taking care to tug the door closed behind her. “So,” she addressed Hannibal quietly as she stared stoically at his chest, “can we negotiate on those buns? I haven't eaten in a few days.”

Hannibal felt a mild urge to pat her on the head but he resisted. She had the look of a puppy that had been kicked too many times, ready to snap and yet still seeking some form of affection. He wondered if she still had the rubber duck on her person. “How about some churros?” he offered.

Summer gave another faint smile. “That would be nice.”

 


	4. Fight or Flight

“How are we going to get to Tijuana and back home?” B.A grumbled with a suspicious look at Hannibal. “Don't even think of saying flying.”

Face gave a subdued laugh at this before gesturing ahead with one hand. “Well it doesn't look like we're hitch-hiking.”

Murdock was looking to the skies and raising his thumb up every time he spied a distant dot in the sky that could be a plane but equally could be a bird.

“They can't see you all the way down here,” Summer murmured, as if that was the only flaw with what Murdock was attempting.

Summer seemed a little better than last night, probably because she had finally rid herself of the sacrificial dress, but she still moved with an air of paranoia to her. She kept in from the road, head bowed and a large pair of sunglasses pressed up on her face.

“I don't remember her paying for those clothes, do you?” Face murmured to Hannibal quietly.

Hannibal smiled. “No but that is her skill, stealing.”

“Not much of a skill if she got caught doing it,” B.A grumbled.

The group were heading down the sunny streets on the outskirts of Mexico City looking for some transportation they could acquire.

They turned a corner and a fancy restaurant with a partially full parking lot was revealed. Face paused suddenly, and loosened his tie.

“Showtime,” he mused merrily as he ruffled his hair and wrinkled his jacket.

“Normally we dress up for showtime,” Summer said in a deadpan manner as she looked at the man curiously.

Face ran up to the young valet without warning, waving his arms and letting out a cry of outrage. “Oh! It's awful!” he lamented. “I was just walking down the street and some awful man mugged me! Can you believe it? And they told me this was a safe area for tourists! Call the police!”

The valet was stunned and looked at the man dumbly.

Face frowned at him and snapped. “Didn't you hear me? I've be robbed! Are you in on it?”

The valet shook his head rapidly.

“Then go call the police!” Face snapped as he gestured into the restaurant.

The valet stumbled off to the entrance of the restaurant, picking up speed more to escape Face than to help him.

Face grinned as he quickly snatched up a fancy looking car key.

He hurried off to find the car to match the keys he had pilfered.

“Hmm,” Summer said with an impressed look, “that's one way of doing it.”

“Let's see what he magics up first,” Hannibal cautioned.

There was a roar of an engine and a screech of tyres before a car swerved into view. It was a five seated red sports car with the roof down exposing cream leather seats.

“Hmm I don't like it,” Murdock pouted, “it ain't got wings.”

“And it's red,” Summer said with distaste.

“You two walk then,” B.A snapped.

They watched as the sports car stopped with a loud screech of the brakes following by the cranking of the handbrake. Face gave an embarrassed smile at the sound. “Ta da,” he jested. “It's been a while since I drove shift,” he added.

“Fool get outta that seat before you hurt that car anymore!” B.A snarled.

Murdock tapped an invisible watch on his wrist. “It will be after noon before we even leave,” he lamented. “And things get weird after midday.”

“Things are always weird with you fool,” B.A retorted moodily.

“It's such a hot day I'm thinking a spin in a nice car with good air conditioning might be the trick,” Face mused as he reluctantly stepped out of the driver's seat.

Summer surprised them with a giggle. “Trick,” she repeated with a smile.

Face exchanged a wary glance with Hannibal before turning a warm grin on the woman. “Glad you like it.”

“You said you didn't!” Murdock protested as he stared at Summer with wide eyes like she had betrayed him.

“I don't like red,” Summer murmured.

“Well I don't like idiots but here we are,” B.A snarled back as he got into the car. “You're alright now,” he murmured, “you got a real man to drive you now.”

“Wait, aren't you real Face?” Murdock queried as he pointed at Face with a suspicious stare. He prodded him hard in the chest. “You don't feel wooden.”

Face frowned back at him as he grabbed his finger. “Murdock we've been over this before, I'm real.”

Summer gave them a curious glance. “How often do you go over that?” she pried.

Face lowered the accusing finger and gave Summer another of his amused and yet sheepish smiles. “Oh I'd say at least once a week, our pilot here is...a little different.”

Summer gave another fleeting smile. “Different is good.”

B.A let out a loud snort of disgust.

Face released Murdock's hand and stepped up to the front passenger side.

When Hannibal stepped beside Face, the younger man gave his superior a weak smile before stepping to the back seats with a wave to the front door.

“Good choice Face,” Hannibal advised with a smile as he tugged open the door.

“Ladies first,” Murdock said in a put on English accent as he looked to Summer and reached for the non-existent back passenger door. He tugged on it awkwardly and gave a snort of displeasure. “Hmm stubborn door. Just a minute while I handle this situation.”

Summer giggled again. “Puns are always my favourite. It's alright, I can manage anyway. Rule number one of being a magician's assistant, be flexible.” She sprung with both feet and collided with the side of the car and tumbled into the seats.

Face winced before he helped her right herself. “Hmm I don't think there's too much damage,” he reassured her as he propped her back against the seat. His bright blue eyes paused at the scars on the young woman's arms. He wondered again about what Jeremy had taken from the mob in Mexico City and why the mafia of all people even had it in Mexico City. He was suspicious that Summer knew more than she was letting on but given what she had suffered for it he couldn't really blame her. “Say, were there no rules about balance and clumsiness?”

Summer shrugged. “As long as you entertain, that's key.”

Murdock jumped into the seat as B.A set off, leaving the now returned valet yelling protests behind them.

Hannibal let out a laugh before plucking out a cigar and a lighter.

“Alright B.A I want you to follow my directions,” Hannibal ordered, “and we'll be out of here soon.”

“Soon?” B.A echoed suspiciously. “There better not be a plane involved,” he snapped.

“What is it you have against them?” Murdock queried with a wounded expression.

“Nothing,” B.A retorted. “When they're on the ground.”

Summer giggled again. “Oh I like this,” she mused. “I haven't laughed in a while.

Murdock frowned. “Well if you're laughing at what he is saying then I think you're unseasonably bonkers, you need seasoned with some reason and maybe a little salt too.”

“Anyway, B.A take the next left,” Hannibal ordered as he took the cigar out of his mouth.

They had an hour of relative peace on the road before chaos found them.

 

“Hannibal we've picked up a tail,” B.A murmured in a quiet, deep tone.

“I know,” Hannibal retorted calmly. “Just pick up the pace, we're nearly there.”

“Nearly where?” B.A retorted as he gave their leader an angry gaze. “We're heading for desert.”

“Hey now B.A there are cacti here too and they have feelings!” Murdock protested.

“Bones too,” Summer piped up with a disturbing cheer, “they probably had feelings too although maybe the funny bones are still laughing.”

Murdock seemed to ponder this whilst Face gave a grim smile, appreciating the gallows humour a little despite himself.

B.A hit the accelerator hard as they moved onto a stretch of straight road.

Gunfire called from behind them and B.A swerved violently to avoid the deadly rain of bullets. Horns honked, wheels screeched and people cursed and screamed as vehicles moved to avoid the sports car and the black car that followed behind them with two men hanging out opposing windows and shooting.

“Hannibal we don't have any guns to return fire,” B.A reminded him, “and we are in a bright red car with no cover!”

Face pressed Summer's head down to her lap as the second wave of gunfire came.

“Right here B.A,” Hannibal ordered calmly as he directed B.A to a stretch of long wild grass and Chapultepec plants.

“Hannibal there's no road there.”

“Just do it.”

B.A swung the wheel hard and the group braced as the car careened off the road and down a shallow bumpy hill to hit a rough terrain.

“B.A where did you get your licence from?” Murdock grumbled.

“Shut up Murdock!” B.A snapped as he heard the squeal of tyres letting him know their pursuers were following. “Hannibal now what?”

“Lose them in the terrain, bear left. Then, when I say, everyone gets out and if you haven't lost our friends, then you see if you can't block them with the car.”

“Hannibal I know you're on the jazz right now but I am not following you,” B.A grumbled back.

A bullet smashed into the driver's wing mirror.

B.A let out a curse before he turned the car to a patch of cacti. “Hold on,” he ordered.

The gunfire continued but it went wild as B.A evaded their pursuers by weaving sharply around cacti and rocks.

They reached a shimmering silver stretch of water that was too small for a lake but big enough to be considered a pond. On the other side of it, barely concealed amongst wild grass was a plane.

“Aw Hannibal hell no!” B.A snapped.

“What is it?” Summer queried to her lap, which partially muffled her voice. “Is it bad? If it is I don't want to see but if it's interesting I'd like a look.”

“Kid just keep your head down,” Face advised.

“Murdock you first, get out and get it started!” Hannibal ordered. “B.A drive us back round, we can't risk them seeing the plane until it's moving, we're going to have consider a bail and flip.”

Murdock, clinging to his baseball cap with one hand, jumped out of the side of the car with a whoop. He hit the ground and started sprinting for the plane.

B.A hit the car in reverse. “Everyone get down!” he snapped.

Their opponents were startled by the seemingly suicidal manoeuvre and were not ready for the impact that followed.

B.A hit the gear stick forward and moved it up through the gears as he accelerated away. Bullets damaged the paintwork and one smashed through the rearview mirror sending it shattering about the front seats.

Face ducked as a bullet almost clipped him.

“So what's a bail and flip?” Summer queried.

“You're about to find out,” Face retorted with a forced calm.

Face could feel his heart pounding as an adrenaline rush began to fill him. It wasn't the first time he had been pursued unarmed by gunmen and it wouldn't be the last but his mind and body never quite adjusted to the initial thrill of fear that came with the possibility of death.

Hannibal remained appearing calm but he was tense, well aware that their pursuers had no interest in attempting to get any of them alive, except maybe Summer. Hannibal couldn't be sure about that. He knew the odds were against them but that was when they usually performed best.

B.A was angry, anger always served him better than fear, fear was a worthless emotion and not one a man of his size and stature had to deal with often. “Hannibal, now or never,” he ordered.

“Alright, bail!” Hannibal cried out.

Summer found herself yanked up and dragged over the edge of the car before she even knew what was happening. She hit the ground hard and tumbled across dirt and wild grass before she could brace for impact. As she choked up dust she found herself bustled to her feet before she could catch her breath.

“It's time to run,” Face ordered as he pulled her into a sprint.

Summer glanced over her shoulder as she heard the sound of the car flipping. She was forced to look away to see where she was running and missed the bang that followed.

The sports car, on its side, hit the bonnet of the black car and the wind shield before it could dodge or reverse. Knowing an explosion was likely, its occupants hurried in a panic to escape.

Summer looked ahead wide eyed at the open side door of the small plane that was humming with life and moving slowly away from them.

“Aww hell!” B.A cursed as he reluctantly ran to it. He shook his head and muttered several curses under his breath as he clambered up inside it.

Hannibal followed, pausing in the doorway to glance back at Face and Summer.

They raced up the plane together, sweating and panting as they forced themselves to push that little bit harder to make it in time.

“Murdock take her up!” Hannibal ordered as he got the steps up, slammed the door shut and secured it.

“Man I knew there was a plane, I knew it!” B.A growled out. “And you all lied to me about it! I'm gonna bust some heads, starting with yours Murdock!”

“Not a good idea to hit the pilot while he's driving B.A,” Murdock called back. “Hmm I don't remember this button, I wonder what it does.”

“I didn't lie,” Summer protested quietly. She looked about the plane curiously as she walked down the narrow aisle to the seats. “I mean gathering how you don't seem fond of this had I know I might have withheld the truth about it but that's not a lie.”

“Yes it is!” B.A snapped as he looked about anxiously. He sat on one of the seats at the back and strapped himself in tightly. “This ain't safe, it's a tiny tin bucket and you have Captain Crazy flying it!” He cursed again as the plane took off into the air.

“Steady now,” Murdock mused. “Lady and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to your flight outta Mexico City, we don't got any refreshments I'm afraid, a little gremlin ate all the nuts before he went dancing on the wings but I can offer some in flight music.” Murdock started to sing out of tune.

“Murdock I am warning you!” B.A snarled.

Hannibal took a seat beside Murdock as the plane shuddered and he almost lost his footing.

“Murdock!” B.A roared.

“What goes up always must come down,” Summer remarked calmly as she occupied a seat opposite him.

“Oh damn that makes sense!” B.A protested. “Hannibal I don't like it when crazy makes sense especially about things like that!”

“Have you ever wondered how planes do fly? They're such heavy things in the air they must drop,” Summer pondered with a curious look.

“Alright Summer, that's enough pondering,” Face scorned her.

“Yeah curiosity killed the cat,” B.A growled, “think about that.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” she retorted. “You've got to wonder about things, learning is good.”

“We're up through the clouds,” Murdock called to them, “it's all sunny side up now, just like eggs 'til you drop 'em.”

“Murdock you're only going to make B.A worse,” Hannibal cautioned.

“I don't like that humming,” B.A complained as his eyes went wide and he grasped the edges of his seat tightly, “and the shaking, it's bad.”

“It's normal for a plane,” Summer assured as she smiled, “it's how it talks.”

“Talks?” B.A pulled a face of disgust. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

Summer's smile widened. “Alright, let's try something else, how about some in flight magic to entertain you?”

B.A muttered a curse. “That duck better not appear,” he grumbled.

Murdock scratched at an inch on his right arm. “Ooh a new hair,” he marvelled at his arm. “I think I'll call this one Charlie.”

“Murdock focus please,” Hannibal advised.

Summer tugged out a deck of cards and started shuffling them before holding them out in a fan before B.A.

“Stop fidgeting,” B.A snapped at her, his gold chains jingling loudly as he turned a glower down at her, “you're making me nervous.”

“Pick a card” she urged.

B.A shook his head stubbornly. “No.”

She turned the handful of cards to Face. “You pick then.”

Face complied, tugging one out of the deck.

“Now look at it but don't let me see.”

Face complied and found himself faced with the Grim Reaper.

The plane shuddered suddenly. A little unsettled by the image of the card combined with the movement, Face said, “er on second thoughts let's do this another time.”

Face pushed the card back into the deck, still face down.

The plane shook again and B.A cursed.

“Maybe I should hold your hand?” Summer suggested innocently. She had banished the cards and was now holding out her hand to B.A

B.A looked at her like she had plunged into the deep end of insanity. A scowl plucked at his lips as he tightened his grasp on the arm rests to the point that one groaned with the stress. “I don't hold hands,” he said firmly.

“Meanie,” Summer muttered as she lowered her hand.

The plane hit an air pocket and plunged suddenly.

Face smiled when Summer's hand slapped down on his and gripped it in the moment.

“Nothing to worry about!” Murdock called back. “Just some pesky fairy tried to catch us in a net, you get used to it. Nets are thin, never hold fast.”

Summer glanced at Face apologetically and withdrew her hand. “Minor lapse,” she murmured.

“I can't take much more of this roller coaster nonsense,” B.A complained. His heart was pounding madly and sweat was beading at his brow. He was filled with a wild panic and an anger at his vulnerability.

The plane jerked to the right.

“Murdock are you tryin' to kill us!” B.A roared. “Hannibal when we land he's a dead man!”

“Oh be quiet B.A,” Murdock scorned him, “why are you awake anyhow? You always sleep on my flights, so peaceful.”

“I ain't never fallen asleep while you were flying!” B.A snarled back.

“Here,” Summer addressed B.A again.

He glanced down at her extended hand which held something. It was a stained, formerly white handkerchief knotted up sloppily so it had two rabbit ears along with a hastily inked out nose and whiskers.

“Here, it's a flying bunny, see,” she said as he let the loose part of the handkerchief flutter out like a cloak. “A good companion for a plane.”

“It don't look clean,” B.A growled.

Summer glanced over at Face. “Well it's his so take the stains up with him. He's called Snotty anyway,” she murmured.

Face winced in both revulsion at the name and embarrassment at the revelation that it was his.

“Keep that away from me,” B.A snapped.

“Alright, on to Tijuana, you know I always wanted to go there,” Murdock said happily as he headed back to the front of the plane.

“Fool we were there a few days ago!” B.A snapped at him.

 


	5. Socks

Face felt a sense of relief to be back on home soil. Oh sure a silly border wouldn't stop the cartel and the Mafia were already lurking on this side of it along with Colonel Lynch and Colonel Decker but home was home. It wasn't that long ago in his life that home hadn't been a certainty.

They had arrived back in the good old U.S of A just after seven in the evening local time back in San Diego. Agreeing that dinner and sleep was the best plan, they had booked into a hotel to shower and change. Face, eager to avoid the cheap hotel's idea of dinner, had suggested they dine out to celebrate their successful liberation of Summer. He had then taken measures to ensure their place for an evening meal would be of a good standard.

“Um what happened to my socks?” Summer queried.

The young woman's voice pulled Face back to the reality of their shady digs and he winced as he glimpsed peeling yellowed wallpaper as he looked over his shoulder to Summer.

She had upturned the contents of a large bag Face couldn't recall her requiring, emptying a pair of shoes, shorts and a top onto one of two beds in the room. He didn't know where the change of clothes had come from either and was a little envious. He wondered woefully when he would get a chance to dispose of his sullied shirt and don a cleaner suit.

“Why do you want to wear socks with sandals?” B.A quipped as he gave her a look of disgust.

B.A was standing by the door, impatiently waiting for them to go. He had, until Summer spoke, been looking pointedly with a scowl at Hannibal.

Their illustrious leader was standing before a small, crooked mirror combing his white hair whilst he puffed at a cigar with a satisfied smile.

Summer gestured down to her feet, which were currently in dirty socks and sandals. “Um you know...comfort.” She shrugged awkwardly. “I guess, I've sore feet too and these socks have got holes in them.” She looked at B.A defensively and folded her arms. “Does fashion really bother you that much?”

B.A frowned back but said nothing.  
Face's gaze darted to the shut bathroom door accusingly. Their pilot had been in there for an inordinate time, babbling to himself or the voices in his head for the past twenty minutes.

Face stepped up to the door and knocked it lightly.

“Murdock you wouldn't happen to know where Summer's socks are?” he quipped calmly. “If they are actually Summer's socks.” He turned a charming smile back to Summer. “You do seem to have an odd manner of increasing your personal belongings,” he pointed out cheerfully.

Summer shrugged again. “Idle hands are the devil's playthings,” she replied, “so I must keep my hands busy.”

“Well now I could offer some suggestions for that,” Face replied with a suggestive glimmer in his gaze.

“Lieutenant,” Hannibal addressed him scornfully.

The bathroom door swung open drawing Face's attention back to it and Murdock leaned out suddenly so that his nose was within an inch of Face's.

Face wasn't even fazed by the sudden movement or the close proximity of the captain.

Murdock gave a bright smile and said quickly, “no idea Faceman but maybe this guy can help?”

Face gave a pained smile when Murdock held up his right hand revealing a white sock on it with a face sloppily inked onto it.

“Murdock what did we say about the markers?” Face queried with the gentle yet scornful tone of a disapproving teacher.

Murdock frowned slightly as he petted the sock puppet's head with his left hand. “But see he needed a mouth so he could use his voice,” Murdock attempted to explain.

“Who exactly is he?” Summer pried.

She leaned round Face at an angle causing her dirty fair hair to tumble down her left shoulder messily. She cocked her head with intrigue as her gaze took in the sock puppet with surprise.

Murdock was now cradling his right hand against him as if he had a rabbit in it. “Elliot but he's kinda shy see,” Murdock retorted.

“Doesn't Elliot have a brother?” Summer quipped dryly. She tried to see past Murdock into the bathroom as she pondered the fate of her other sock.

“Frank,” Murdock responded as he glanced over his shoulder quickly before turning back to Summer guiltily. “Frank...didn't make it.”

“What happened to Frank?” Summer queried.

“He drowned in the sink, terrible,” Murdock said as he winced and hugged his right hand close.

Summer nodded along. “I see, I guess we shouldn't speak about it in front of Elliot huh?”

Murdock nodded solemnly. “Best not to, gives him bad memories of the washing machine that killed their parents.”

Summer let out a giggle at this before she could help herself.

“Don't encourage him,” B.A scolded her. “It's your socks he's messed up. You're going barefoot because of that sucka.”

Murdock, suddenly shamefaced, tugged off his red baseball cap with his left hand and squeezed it tightly. “Oh well now Elliot and me wouldn't want that. Um...” He looked down at his own brown boots before glancing back up at Summer. “I mean I gotta real nice set of socks that would do.”

“Murdock I don't think she wants to wear your socks,” Face interrupted. He smiled apologetically at Summer and raised his fair eyebrows slightly. “Do you?”

Summer looked back down at her feet.

Face followed her stare and only then did he realise many of the visible stains on her socks were the sticky brown of dried blood not dirt. “Summer are you hurt?” he queried seriously.

“Not recently,” she answered vaguely. “I mean...” She fidgeted with her fingers and a familiar squeak emitted from them.

“Not that damn duck,” B.A growled out disapprovingly.

“Actually it's a new duck,” Summer retorted quietly. “I collect them.”

“You collect rubber ducks?” B.A queried in disbelief. He turned a glower on Hannibal. “How long before she's out of our hair?”

“What about your feet?” Face pressed Summer for an explanation.

Summer had her head bowed again, down like the soldier trying to study the mud on their shoes so they could avoid looking at the bodies they'd helped create.

“I've sore feet that's all,” Summer babbled down to the rubber duck she had seemingly conjured.

Murdock dropped to the ground and attempted to tug off his boots with one hands.

“No, no, you gotta untie,” Murdock remarked in a put on English accent as he opened and shut the mouth of the sock puppet in time to the words. “Set my people free,” he added dramatically.

“And then Moses parted the laces and Pharaoh watched as the socks crossed to the land of laundry,” Summer murmured as she watched.

“Why are we delaying dinner for this Hannibal?” B.A queried crossly.

Hannibal gave B.A a calm, soothing smile. “I honestly don't know,” he confessed brightly. “I would suppose because wherever Face has picked for dinner won't let in women with bare feet.”

Hannibal stepped across the room to an ashtray resting on a cabinet beside one of the beds and stubbed out his cigar there.

“Face maybe you should help our pilot with his donation,” Hannibal suggested.

Face frowned over at his superior. “Ugh Hannibal really, I mean I don't think Murdock's washed those socks in a long time.”

Murdock, or Elliot it seemed, let out a cry of horror. Murdock clamped his left hand over his right and glowered up at Face accusingly. “Face how could you?” he hissed out.

Face stared down at the pilot with a familiar expression of confusion. “How could I what exactly?” Face queried.

“Mention washing, Elliot's brother just drowned,” Summer reminded him calmly.

Face glanced over at her curiously. He wondered how the young woman kept up with Murdock's latest fantasy or why she even felt a need to indulge it. He felt an odd joy that someone else was ready to show the same patience with the pilot's madness that he did.

“Oh of course,” Face said with a put on sombreness. He pressed his left hand into his chest before turning his attention back to Murdock. “Sorry captain,” he apologised, “and sorry Elliot.”

Face crouched down before Murdock and reached out to help him with his boots. “Before I unleash what will undoubtedly be a great unwanted odour, are you really going to wear these socks?” Face queried Summer.

“Hmm if they have a nice pattern I will,” Summer retorted brightly.

“Well knowing our pilot they should impress in that regard,” Hannibal answered.

Face helped Murdock untie his laces tug off his boots. Their hands fumbled together several times, each time they did Murdock muttered something inaudible whilst Face gave a small smile and shook his head before continuing on. Once the boots were free a pair of mismatched socks were revealed. On the left was a blue sock with goldfish patterning it and on the right was a red sock with grey mice patterning it.

Murdock tugged his socks off quickly before scrambling around Face to kneel before Summer. He offered up his socks in one upturned palm. “For you milady,” he said seriously.

Summer smiled back as she pocketed the duck and she reached for the socks. “I like goldfish,” she commented happily as her fingertips brushed briefly against the callouses of his hand before she grabbed the socks.

“For swallowing probably,” B.A grumbled, “that's what magicians do with them.”

Summer turned her head to frown over at the man. “I was against that,” she said coldly, “in fact I protested, wrote to the Magician's Board complaining and I rescued two from Jeremy.”

Hannibal gave a chuckle. “An advocator for goldfish rights, that's an admirable trait,” he remarked.

“Their lives matter too,” Summer insisted.

“Well of course they do,” Murdock agreed. “Hey, you know I'm already down here, why don't I put the socks on for you?” he offered.

Summer stared down at the pilot with surprise before nodding. “I suppose it makes sense, you're already down there, I'm up here,” she replied calmly before handing him back the socks.

“No, no it doesn't,” B.A protested, “nothing with him makes sense!”

Murdock ignored him and instead turned his attention to Elliot. “Hey Face can you take Elliot for a sec he can't really help, it would be um...unnatural for him to have his kin in his mouth, cannibalistic don't you think?”

“Let's hurry it along,” Hannibal suggested as he glanced at his watch, “our table is booked for eight as I recall and it is now seven thirty.”

“Right.” Face hastened forward and snatched Elliot off Murdock's hand.

“Ouch Face, take care with him!” Murdock scolded as he shook his now freed hand.

“Summer's feet Murdock, let's prioritise,” Face remarked.

Murdock returned to the matter at hand. Summer had already slipped off her sandals exposing more stains on her socks. Murdock was unperturbed by them as he reached for the left sock and rolled it down. His stare was sympathetic as he noted the faded bruising and scarring on the woman's legs. He knew there were burn marks on the back of her legs and wondered what, if any, treatment she had received for them.

Summer bit back a wince as she lifted her foot to allowed Murdock to unroll the sock and expose a deep slice on the sole that cut a jagged, violent, red wound through the flesh. The wound was uninfected for the moment and in the process of healing.

Murdock hesitated to hide it with one of his socks, giving Face a chance to glimpse it.

“Summer that needs bandaged,” Face said sternly.

“I know, I was waiting for a chance to get some bandages,” she explained.

“Why didn't you say anything about it?” Hannibal pried.

“I just, I mean I've a lot of wounds, too many to talk about, gets boring telling the same tale of torture,” the babbling was back, “suppose the method varied but do you want to know? I mean we're over the border now, job done, you don't need details.”

“Summer we wouldn't make it worse,” Hannibal reassured.

There was the sound of tearing as B.A sliced off strips from a pillow cover with his knife. He stomped over to Summer, jingling with each step, as he hunted amongst his trouser pockets with his free hand before producing two safety pins. “Less chat more action, I'm getting hungry. These will do until we can some bandages,” he snapped.

“Give 'em here B.A,” Murdock ordered.

“Fool what do you know about bandaging people?”

Murdock rolled his eyes before turning a pout up to B.A. “I have been in hospitals more than any of you combined, remember?”

“That's like me sayin' I'm a chef because I've been in restaurants!” B.A snapped.

Murdock waved an upturned palm impatiently. “I'm already down here.”

“Whatever, idiot,” B.A scorned as he handed them down. He glanced to Summer who still had her foot in the air but had yet to wobble or even put her hands out for support. “You've good balance,” he praised.

“Comes with the job.”

“You need to lower it a little,” Murdock said.

Summer obeyed, exposing slices on the top of her foot along with bruising.

“That seems...personal,” Face said, settling on the latter word reluctantly. He knew how it sounded, all her injuries were personal but there seemed to be a lot of attention given to wounding her foot. “Is the other one the same?”

Summer nodded as she winced as the strip of pillow cover brushed against her foot.

Murdock was gentle as he wrapped the strip about the foot before pinning it in place. Next he slipped on the sock, slow and light as he carefully tugged it over the pin. “There, fishes first,” he said.

“Thanks,” Summer said sincerely as she lowered the foot.

“You didn't limp,” B.A acknowledged. He was still standing near, watching Murdock closely to make sure he didn't slip up and make things worse.

“Or I didn't let you notice,” Summer retorted, “that is the magician's way, diverting attention.”

“Thought you were just the assistant,” B.A grumbled.

“That's how Jeremy saw it too,” Summer murmured angrily.

“Is that why he betrayed you?” Face pried. “Was he threatened by you?”

Summer's taupe eyes looked back at Face with unease. “No,” she said flatly.

She lifted her foot for Murdock.

The pilot eased her dirty sock off as gently as he could before abandoning it to the floor. He started the process of bandaging, pausing when her foot gave a tremor. “It's alright,” he reassured, “won't take long, the mice are always easier to put on, they like feet.”

Once the socks were on, Summer slipped the sandals back on drawing a look of ire from B.A.

“Well you look ridiculous with those,” he scorned her.

“Yes but it means everyone will be looking at my feet,” Summer said happily.

There was a light jingle and Summer winced as B.A grasped her right hand, which had just plucked a charm free from one of his many necklaces. “Instead of your hands?” he growled out. “I'm watching all of you.”

B.A squeezed tightly on her hand.

“I guess I'm still sloppy, torture will do that to you,” Summer said with another wince.

“B.A let's not break her hand, we're the good guys, remember?” Face piped up cheerfully.

“She's a thief,” B.A snarled.

“I was just practising, I was going to give it back,” Summer protested.

B.A gave a humph sound as he released her hand and held out his own for the charm. “I don't like thieves,” he said flatly.

“No, neither did the Mexicans,” Summer said darkly.

The young woman smacked the charm down into his palm, revealing it to be a gold coin with St. Anthony carved on it, with it she also gave him a tarot card. The card was face up depicting a woman with a lion, holding its mouth closed, it was marked as XI at the top and Strength underneath. “Are you the lion or the woman?” Summer queried calmly as she glanced up at the Sergeant.

Face and Hannibal both gave a small smile at this.

B.A scowled and spluttered slightly as he clenched his free hand into a fist. “I ain't no woman!” he snapped.

“Is a woman weak when she hold the lion?” Summer quipped.

B.A clamped his hand shut, causing the card to crease up in his clutch. “I don't care for this mumbo jumbo tarot nonsense,” he scorned her.

“You don't believe in tarot cards but you believe in Saint charms?” Summer pried.

“No the guy who I took it off after he tried and failed to punch me three times did,” B.A retorted hotly.

“Hmm, well I like them.”

“Well much as I'd like to hear more of this conversation it is definitely time to leave for dinner,” Hannibal spoke up. He walked over to the others and gave Summer a small smile. “Try to resist the urge for shiny things Summer we don't need a magpie.”

Murdock stood up and rubbed his palms together gleefully. “Can we get pasta tonight? It's always from a tin in the ward and I've been craving it since you mentioned it,” he remarked as he glanced at Summer.

“I always liked the alphabet spaghetti,” Summer mused, “my dad would make messages in it for me.”

“Is that who those messages came from?” Murdock murmured as he gave a dubious look. He rubbed at his head curiously with one hand. “But why would your dad be leaving me messages?”

Summer blinked back at him in confusion. “Um...”

“This restaurant caters a little more classy food than alphabetti,” Face said, “and it also doesn't like tardiness so let's go already.”

He gestured towards the door with both hands, waving them on to it. B.A headed out first followed by Murdock, then Summer and finally Hannibal and then Face.

They headed down the hotel and to the grey pavement outside what passed for a reception where a few taxis were sitting.

“I'm going in the front,” B.A said firmly.

Face frowned. “I had to share a back seat with them in the last car,” Face protested.

“And you're doing it again,” B.A snapped. He gave Face a taunting smile and added, “you have a way with women Face, remember? And if I go with Captain Crazy then someone's getting knocked out.”

“Always with the violence B.A,” Murdock pouted, “well at least you remembered I'm the captain.”

“Don't worry Face, it's a short car journey to the place,” Hannibal said with a grin.

“You didn't let me take the front seat last time, why are you letting B.A do it?” Face demanded with a protesting stare.

Hannibal glanced at B.A as he stomped over to the front door of a taxi and then looked back to Face. “B.A is more...persuasive.”

 

 


End file.
